


Shelter from the Storm

by jessahmewren



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Challenge Response, He's 18 in this, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Will Graham, Vampire Hannibal Lecter, Young Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessahmewren/pseuds/jessahmewren
Summary: 18 year old Will Graham gets caught in a rainstorm on his way home from school.  He seeks shelter in an old abandoned mansion...but is it really abandoned?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 323
Collections: #SpookySlick





	Shelter from the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of SpookySlick! Love Bites/Mating Bites/Vampire Bites. Started out as a small blurb for my Twitter (@willygrayham), but quickly got away from me.   
> Will is 18 in this, and Hannibal is a 300 year old vampire so age gap ftw!   
> I hope you enjoy! :D

-0-0-0-

Will approached the abandoned mansion with no small measure of trepidation. Rain poured from the heavens, falling in heavy sheets until he was soaked to the bone. The air smelled of ozone, and big streaks of lightning cracked in the sky. Perhaps if he just stood on the porch as the storm passed, that would be enough shelter. 

The porch of the mansion was rotten with decay, and the awning was half collapsing in on itself. Will huddled under the last remaining structure standing, shivering violently. 

He pressed his body up against the door as he shied away from the downpour, abruptly falling into a dusty foyer as the entrance gave way. Will stumbled blindly, pulling his cell phone from his pocket to use as a flashlight. 

It was warmer inside, and drier too. Will forgot his misgivings about approaching the old mansion and decided to just be thankful to be out of the rain. 

He was exploring the space illuminated by the small shaft of light when he thought he heard a noise. 

“H-hello?” Will tried, feeling immediately silly for thinking someone would actually be living here. 

But the feeling did not last long. 

“Hello, young one came a deep, heavily accented voice. Will watched as a stately man pressed out of the shadows, his face angular and distinct. 

Until Will dropped his cell phone, casting them both in darkness. 

“Shit!” Will cried in the dark. The cellphone had fallen face down, blocking the light. He felt blindly for it on the floor, but to no avail. 

Then a hand came to rest on his shoulder, cool skin and long fingers digging into the meat of it.

“Don’t be frightened,” came the voice. “This is my house, and I provide the light.” 

As soon as he finished speaking, dozens of wall sconces sprang to life, their flames dancing in the breeze from the open door. 

In the well-lit room, Will could see the man more clearly. 

He was pale, ethereal. He moved with a dignified sort of grace. And he still had his hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re soaked through,” the man said distinctly. “I can smell it on you.” 

Will blushed furiously. Surely he couldn’t mean his heat? It had started at school, and Will was rushing home when the rain started. Surely he couldn’t—

“The rain,” the man amended. “We should get you some dry clothes.” 

Will stammered for a moment, looking into the man’s unusual amber eyes. They were so bright they appeared to be glowing in the candlelight. 

“I really should be going Mister. My dad—“

“Will be glad someone took care of you in your time of need,” the curious man said. 

Will swallowed. “Who are you?” 

The man chuckled then, and the hair on the back of Will’s neck stood up. “I’m so sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Count Hannibal Lecter, and this is my home you’ve stumbled into.”

The Count smiled, and the pointy ends of his teeth bit into his lip. Fangs, thought Will. He has fangs. 

“I apologize, Count,” Will managed. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” His belly was tight with tension, and he wanted nothing more than to run out into the rain again, the cold and wet be damned. 

But those eyes held him fixed, unable to move. 

Count Lecter led Will deeper into the house, to a small study where a roaring fire blazed. He pushed Will down into an overstuffed chair, and Will let him. 

“I’ll be right back with you something more comfortable to wear,” the Count said. “Something warm and dry.” 

The Count returned with preternatural speed, a thick brocade robe in his hands. “Please, Will. Me yourself comfortable.” 

The Count gestured to a beautiful printed screen in the study where Will could change. Will clasped the robe in his hand, walking over and stepping behind the screen. He changed out of his wet clothes and slipped into the robe. It was soft and warm and just a little too big. He cinched it around his waist and returned to the chair.

There was a warm glass of cider waiting for him, which he took gratefully. The Count sat opposite him, a glass of red wine in his hand. He still studied Will with those amber eyes. 

Will wrapped his hands around the warm cup and sighed. It was so much better being warm and dry, even if The Count was curious company. He sipped at the cider while the fire crackled between them. 

“Tell me Will, how did you come to find me this fine night?” 

Will blinked, almost spilling the cider. He placed the cup down on the small table beside him. His heart hammered in his chest. “How did you know my name?”

The Count smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. “It’s a small town,” he said smoothly. “I know everyone.” 

Will nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. “How long have you lived here?” he asked. 

The Count folded his hands over one knee. “Many, many years.”

Will snorted. “You don’t look that old to have lived here so long. What are you, forty?” 

Harsh laughter bubbled forth from the Count, chilling Will even in his sumptuous robe. “My dear boy, I’m much older than you.” 

Will swallowed. “How much older?” His hair was beginning to dry, and wayward curls framed his youthful face. 

“Three hundred or so years, I imagine,” and his fangs flashed. 

Will took in the pallor of his flesh, the amber eyes, the sharp fangs. “You’re…you’re a vampire,” Will said suddenly. For some reason, he wasn’t afraid. 

Hannibal stood, looming over him. “Indeed I am, dear boy. And I’ve been alone for a very long time.” He smiled. “Until you.” 

He reached out and took Will by the hand, bidding him stand. “You’re very close to your heat,” The Count said, “I could smell you as you shivered on my porch.” 

Will bit his lip, gaze caught by those entrancing eyes. “It hasn’t come yet,” he said in a small voice.

The Count smoothed over his soft hair, a cool hand coming down to cup his face. “But it will,” he said. 

Will nodded, a bit dazed. “It’s my first one,” he offered in that same small voice. He winced at how young he sounded. How inexperienced.

The Count made a tutting sound as his fingers slipped down to smooth over his mating gland. “How scary that must be for you, my dear. Do you have anyone to share your heat with?”

Will shook his head. “I don’t know any one…like that,” Will finally got out. 

“Hmmm,” The Count said, considering. “But now you know me.”

Will nodded slowly. “I guess I do,” he found himself saying. 

“Would you like me to help you, Will? Keep you safe and warm and dry?” 

Will swooned, feeling suddenly unwell. He braced his hands on the hard marble arms of Count Lecter, and nodded. 

\---

Will woke up in a large four-poster bed with satin sheets and thick velvet curtains tied back against the night sky. Outside, the rain had cleared and a full moon hung pregnant in a cloudless sky. It gave the room a dreamlike quality, and Will blinked against the brightness of it. 

The Count loomed over him, an alabaster hand pressed against his forehead. “You’re heat has come,” he said matter-of-factly. “Are you feeling any discomfort?” 

Will frowned. He felt floaty, limbless, as if he were emerged in water. His stomach cramped, and a steady stream of slick coated his thighs. “I…I’m wet,” Will confessed in a small voice. “And my stomach hurts.” 

The Count shushed him quietly, his pallid hand smoothing over Will’s belly and gently pressing down. “So empty, yes? So very empty.”

Will whined, pressing up into The Count’s touch. He was right; there was an aching emptiness inside him that he didn’t know how to fill. 

“Is this…is this what heat feels like?” 

The Count smoothed his hand over the boy’s fevered brow. “I’m afraid it is, my love. But I can help you feel much, much better.” 

The boy groaned, clutching his abdomen and drawing his legs up to his chest. He could feel more slick soaking the bed. He didn’t care. 

“How can you help me?” 

The Count locked eyes with Will, letting his penetrative gaze relax him. “Let me show you,” he said. 

Will whined as another pain hit him, another gush of slick. “Ok…anything. It hurts. Hurts so much.” 

The Count inhaled deeply and sighed. “I can smell your blood, my love...so vibrant and youthful. So full of life.” 

Will writhed beneath him, more desperate and aching by the moment. The Count tapped the side of Will’s neck, right over Will’s mating gland and beneath that, where his blood pulsed steadily, scenting the air. 

“May I have a taste?” 

Will groaned, jerking away from The Count’s touch. “Anything,” Will murmured. “Just please, help me.” 

The boy was burning up, and The Count took him into his arms and embraced him, hoping his cool skin would be a comfort to him. Will sighed, his head lolling and bearing his throat. 

Hannibal’s fangs distended, and he brushed them over Will’s mating gland. “Soon, my Darling. Soon we will both feel much better.” 

He lay Will down on the pillows, bending his knees to his chest. The boy was already gaping, no prep required, but he couldn’t resist a taste of his sweet essence as he dipped his fingers into his entrance and brought them to his mouth. 

Will mewled, clenching around where the fingers had just teased his hole. The flavor burst on The Count’s tongue…not quite as sweet as blood, but musky and floral and altogether satisfying.

“I could eat you up, my dear.” He smoothed his hand down Will’s trembling thigh. “Maybe I will.” 

Will moved his head back and forth on the pillow. “Please,” he whispered, not even knowing what he was asking for. 

The Count began to disrobe, hurrying to press his cool body to Will’s fevered flesh. He stroked over his hair once more before grabbing the boys hips and pushing into him.

The heat on his cock was feverish, almost overwhelming as The Count thrust gently into Will’s tight, welcoming body. His strokes were long and languid, drawing out his pleasure as Will thrashed and panted beneath him. 

“Full, full, full,” Will chanted, lost in the feeling of The Count filling him so perfectly. He pushed back against the strokes, letting instinct drive him as even more slick dribbled from his hole, easing the way for The Count’s substantial cock. 

“You’re taking me so well, my love,” The Count grunted against his neck. “And I can smell your life pulsing so rapidly…your heart beating fast. You’re so beautiful.”

Will wrapped his legs around The Count as he continued to push into him, angling his hips to bring the boy the most pleasure and relief. When Will came, it was a hot splash against The Count’s abdomen, and he stroked the boy passed the point of pleasure into a liminal space just edging on pain. Will came again, spurting weakly and moaning as The Count pressed his fangs against his neck. 

“You’re so good for me,” He mumbled against the fevered flesh. “I’m going to mate you and keep you. Our nights will be filled with ecstasy, our days full of peaceful dreams.” One of the fangs nicked Will’s mating gland, and he keened. “Would you like that my love?”

“Yes,” Will stammered as The Count went deathly still inside of him. Will’s body clenched around his cock, his hips moving up to meet him, but The Count held back. He groped the boy, watching as he stiffened to hardness once again. 

“You are mine,” The Count stated before sinking his fangs into Will’s mating gland and sucking the life’s blood that pumped beneath. 

Will jerked, crying out and arching against The Count as he came again. His mind whited out as he slipped away into a blissful peace. He could feel his blood being taken, feel it being drawn out of his body and his heat waned momentarily. His entire body trembled, and he clung to The Count as he fed on his body and on his blood.

The Count came with a grunt, his mouth filled with his boy’s blood and oozing from the two holes in Will’s mating gland. He thrust hard into Will, riding out his climax while all Will could do was cling to him, feeling the very life of him drain away. 

Then The Count withdrew. He licked over the wound until only the scar from Will’s mating bite was visible. He tucked Will beneath the sheets; he would need rest to recover from the bloodletting and to prepare for his next wave of heat. 

But the boy was his. The Count walked to the window and stared up at the moon. He would see the boy through his heat…this one and every one thereafter. And he would feed off his sweet blood for as long as he had life. 

-0-0-0-0


End file.
